Wake up to a Nightmare: The 302nd Hunger Games
by crumblingpastries
Summary: [SYOT.] When fighting earns you a knife to the gut, will you still stand your ground? When running only brings you into another nightmare, how far can you flee? When the world treats you as nothing but another piece in their games, will you still fight this futile battle? It is another year, another round of the Hunger Games. But to the tributes of the 302nd Games, it is much more.
1. Prologue

**WAKE UP TO A NIGHTMARE: THE 302ND HUNGER GAMES**

_disclaimer: nothing owned. Enjoy the story!_

* * *

A strangled scream erupted from the speakers, prompting a round of cheers from around the table. Glasses clinked; lips parted in laughter as the circle of Capitolites observed the bloody fight played from different angles on the screens. The weaker tribute crumpled and fell, writhing as his wild-eyed opponent ripped the spear out of his abdomen, blood and innards spilling onto the ground. Another round of cheers as the final cannon boomed.

"Marvelous work, Gamemaker Horace! I didn't expect you to make such a great show of the 301st! To think it's even better than a Quell, how unbelievable! Were you holding back on us for the 300th?"

"Small wonder he's the Head Gamemaker, eh? To best the drama of a Quell immediately after it ends...so, what do you have for us this year?"

Head Gamemaker Horace Talonne offered a thin-lipped smile in reply, draining the last of his champagne. "Now, now, my friends! These lips are sealed- besides, the Games are almost upon us, you don't have much longer to wait."

"Exactly! There's not much longer to go, surely it wouldn't hurt to drop a hint or two."

"Eager, aren't you? Don't worry, you have every right to be. I have plans to make this year's Games even better than the last, and my team have been working hard to bring those plans to fruition." As the fanfare for the Victor's Interview ended and the credits began to roll onscreen, Horace put his empty glass down rose from the table, waving away the Avox that stepped up to refill his drink. "And I'm afraid my duties must take me away now! See you soon, mmhmm?"

"Goodbye, Gamemaker H-" The other Capitolites chorused their goodbyes, but he wasn't listening. Not anymore, not now that he didn't have any reason to care- the urge to slam the door as he went was there, but he brushed it off roughly. He had a reputation to maintain, had a whole city of idiots to answer to, had to work to the whims of the Capitol like any tribute because it wouldn't do to upset his viewership. Between poring over atrocious mutt suggestions by the ignorant populace and thinking of excuses to refuse the ever-worsening Arena ideas that the Capitol officials tried to suggest, there wasn't much time for Horace to be appreciating the idiots that inhabited this gleaming city with him.

He turned a corner and climbed a flight of stairs, entering passcodes and swiping thumbprints as he passed various security clearances, his mind already miles away from the quaint little lunch party. The airheads back at the restaurant were probably still buzzing over the footage of last year's Games like flies over carrion, but _his _mind was filled with plans and blueprints, traps and themes for the Games ahead. The 300th may have been great, the 301st may have been spectacular, but the 302nd would surpass all expectations- he could see it in his head, the majestic Arena rising above the tributes as they ascended on their platforms, all the nooks and crannies of it that provided everything a good murder needed.

"Burke, get word from the camera crews covering the Reapings. Cygnus, put your progress for the water systems up and we'll look it through." Horace didn't even register the words leaving his mouth as he entered the Control Room, adrenaline seeping into his blood simply by _being_ here. They were his team, working like an well-oiled machine, a hunting mutt bent on its single goal- a successful Hunger Games.

"I have some new plans I need you to work on immediately. We don't have time."

Gazing down on a hologram of the Arena, the Gamemakers nodded mutely and spread out to their various stations; pulling out windows from touchscreens, entering in commands. On its white pedestal at the center of the room the Arena's hologram flourished, colors blooming across its surface as construction continued, glowing dots on the map showing traps and cameras and mutts. Horace regarded the hologram fondly as the team bustled around him, indulging himself for a moment to reach out and pierce the formless display with his fingers.

_His beautiful creation._

Gamemaker Cygnus shook his head as he readied the projector, watching his Head Gamemaker marvel at the Arena. A technological marvel, yes, but one about to be used as an execution site. It was almost a little sad, if he had the time or energy to think more about it. Putting the thoughts away for the moment, Gamemaker Cygnus simply shook his head and displayed his work as instructed, with a little mutter under his breath-

"Madmen and their dreams..."

* * *

**SYOT- THE 302ND GAMES**

**A/N: **Below is the from for this SYOT. The optional sections will help me in writing the Games, but it's okay to leave them blank if you have no idea. Do send your applications in by PM, I'll be a little adverse towards accepting review apps or anonymous apps.

**Name:  
****Age: **(Careers must be at least 16!)  
**Gender:  
****District:  
****Appearance:** (Match your District! Someone from the double-digit districts isn't likely to be muscular.)  
**Personality: **(The more detailed, the better! I'd like a lot more than just a few adjectives, please! How do they talk, how do they act, how do they treat their friends and enemies? How do they perform under pressure? What's their life philosophy? Etc. etc. Help me help your characters!)  
**Background: **(What friends and family do they have? How was their childhood? Were they a Career, and how did they take their training? How did they view the Games before their Reaping? It's up to you what important events of their life you'd like to put.)

**OPTIONAL SECTIONS:  
****Reaction to Reaping: **(As short or as long as you'd like. Were they Reaped or did they volunteer?)  
**Tribute Token:  
****Chariot Costume: **(If you have suggestions it would be much appreciated! I'll have to take your tribute's district partner into account though, so I may not use all ideas.)  
**Training Strategy: **(What training stations will they focus on during training? What might they show off during their private session with the Gamemakers? Will they try to be friendly with other tributes during training or will they show off? What would be their preferred weapon?)  
**Interview Strategy: **(What angle will they try to take during interviews, and what might they talk about?)  
**Arena Plans: **(Every tribute thinks about how they're going to tackle the Games ahead of them. What plans would you tribute have? Would they want to run straight for the hills or make a grab for the supplies at the Cornucopia? Are they studying their opponents during training and planning how to take out the competition, or are they too scared to think of anything beyond running and hiding and trying to survive? What would be their priorities?)  
**Alliances: **(Would they look for or be open to alliances? Are they a loyal ally or would they be plotting a betrayal?)  
**Death: **(Do you have any ideas for how your tribute would die?)

Thank you all for reading til here and have a Happy Hunger Games~!


	2. AN: Submitted Tributes (updated!)

**A/N: **(updated!) Alright, I'm shaping the list up to resemble the final cut more, and I've moved some of the excess tributes around. Please PM me if I transferred something wrongly (you're listed under the wrong district and I've said nothing about switching Districts to you). Thanks!

***LAST CALL FOR TRIBUTES***

**District One  
Male**- Saguaro Drei (The Koala of Doom)  
**Female**- Shimmer Beaufort (justhat)

Escort- Silvia Wingsworth

**District Two  
Male- **Cassio Montago (Jackorabbit)**  
Female- **Alaska Silverstone (JustaWriter167)

Escort- Smithe Levian

**District Three  
Male- **Tommy Asata (splendeur) **  
Female- **Zipporah Herriot (BananaSwirl)

Escort- Tiffany Garnet

**District Four  
Male- **Kane Toews (Lil Killer16)**  
Female- **Celeste Mason (DemiGodLover)

Escort- Flanders Bronze

**District Five  
Male- **Atom Sinclair (littlechurchboy22)**  
Female-** Keira Cadell (alwaysbeingme98)

Escort- Achyls Symphenne

**District Six  
Male- **Den Nusterd (TheSonOfAres) **  
Female- **Kia Rossie (stalking dream)

Escort – Crystelle Clarinne

**District Seven  
Male-** Aiden Vyner (filler)**  
Female- **Scout Green (Musicforlife28)

Escort- Corona Finch

**District Eight  
Male- **? (filler) **  
Female- **Isabella Dennis (Firebird128)

Escort- Julius Finnerin

**District Nine  
Male-  
Female**- Lily Fanning (LouisVuittonluver)

**District Ten  
Male- **Saidle Roan (splendeur)  
**Female-**

**District Eleven  
Male- **Argus Gray (shock689)  
**Female- **(app pending: BooksbeforeLooks)

**District Twelve  
Male- **Aron Ravenhart (auraspirit157)**  
Female-** Prequet Mirr (splendeur)


	3. D1 Reaping: Chasing a Gilded Lie

**A/N:** Short chapter because this is quite rushed, so sorry. And I'm can't exactly go in order like I wanted to since I'm still missing D2's male tribute, but I wanted to give you some story content in return for all your support! Really, thanks everyone, and I hope this is alright. I'm not quite sure I wrote the D1 tributes properly, so pardon me if I get mistakes. **Justawriter167**, I've moved Alaska to D2 like you asked. That means that** HiILikePie1937462**, I've contacted you as to whether you'd like to switch the tribute you submitted to another District. So sorry!

**Tribute applications are still open! Please check the listings on Chapter 2 to see which slots are open!**

* * *

**District One Reapings: Chasing a Gilded Lie**

_Shimmer Beaufort, Saguaro Drei_

* * *

She was giddy, half-drunk off adrenaline and sunlight and camera flashes in her eyes. So _this _what was it was like to volunteer. This was what other Careers felt when they walked up to the stage, entitled for these short moments to act like they owned the world. She glanced up to the screens around the stage, broadcasting a closeup of her to the rest of District One; in a moment of self-consciousness she ran a hand carelessly through her blonde hair, styling it just so down her back.

The Escort whatshername shook her hand, teeth flashing just as bright as hers. "What's your name, darling?"

She threw her head back proudly, lifting a slender hand to wave to the audience.

"Shimmer Beaufort!"

A commotion in the town square, as it was every year. A roar of cheering and clapping, and she could see the shock on the faces of the other kids, those in the eighteen-year-old stockade who struggled to accept that they would never get another shot at this. Their thunder stolen by a random sixteen-year-old out of nowhere. Hah.

Shimmer savored the sense of triumph, the attention on her- the _whole Capitol_ would have their eyes on her, just imagine!- and the rage from her father and confusion from the other Careers only built up this wave of excitement.

"The District is proud to have such a lovely young lady as their representative! Now, let's see who your partner will be!" Oh, she remembered what the Escort was called now. Silvia Something, but she would have all the time she needed to get to know that woman. Grudgingly Shimmer stepped to the side, smile still unfaltering, eyes roaming the crowd with some curiosity. Now that the thrill of volunteering was fast wearing off...hmm. It was getting hard to ignore the increasing animation of her family members, her father looking fit to explode and her brother already pushing through the sixteen-year-olds standing with him-

-oh, damnit, _Sheen_!

"The male tribute for the 302nd Hunger Games is-"

-if her _brother_ was up here, then-

"I volunteer!"

"No, I do!"

"_Sheen_!" Shimmer shouted down, her perfect facade dropping for a moment- she _wouldn't_ have her sibling up here when it was _her _show, _her _risk to take- "_don't you dare!_"

Sheen Beaufort froze, blue eyes staring in surprise at his sister, and in those precious seconds the other boy shoved his way to the stage. Crisis averted. Shimmer relaxed back, smiling to herself as Silvia engaged the boy.

"Another volunteer! That was a great display just now, beating your competitor to the punch! What's your name, young man?"

A snort, a derisive glance in her direction. "It would be disgusting if District One pulled the star-crossed lovers tactic like some lower District resorting to cheap tricks. Would I let that happen?"

"_Excuse me_, we're _siblings_."

The boy simply shrugged, glancing elsewhere in an uninterested manner. "Anyway, my name's Saguaro Drei." As if on an afterthought, he stuck out his muscular hand for her to shake. Shimmer took it, sizing her district partner up as they shook hands. The boy's grip was firm but professional; it was a quick and mutual agreement that their partnership was for business only. It was a bit of a pity, considering that Saguaro was tan and fairly good-looking and quite dashingly blonde. In a way, he reminded her of Sheen- except Saguaro's eyes were nothing like her brother's, they were a hard dark brown that couldn't be further from the vivid cobalt that she shared with her brother.

Shimmer fancied that she could stab a knife into his gut and watch the light die from those emotionless eyes. Yes. That was the way to think starting from now. Saguaro was probably thinking the same thing, was he not?

Silvia nodded approvingly, painted lips stretched wide over a smile, glitteringly-manicured fingers curling around both their hands. The Escort's hair and clothes were coated with a liberal layer of sparkling polish, meant to symbolize the luxuries that the District produced, but to Shimmer it was just gaudy and overdone- and judging by Saguaro's annoyed look, he wasn't impressed either.

"With such wonderful tributes, I'm sure District One will have a winner again this year! Give up for your two tributes, District One!" Panem's anthem struck up, riding the crescendo of applause over the crowds as the cameras pan over the Reaping one last time. The sunlight draping softly like a veil of glamor over the two tributes, one statuesque and one Herculean, blonde locks gleaming like spun gold. Shimmer and Saguaro, standing like Victors before their District, ready to take on the Games.


	4. D2, D4 Reapings: The Unquestioned Order

**A/N: **The next two Reapings are D2 and D4 because I'm still lacking the D3 male tribute. At this point I believe I'm still missing the **D7, D8, D9 males and the D10 & D11 females.** Those who've promised me their applications (**locoforcoco**, **stalkingdream**), do get your applications ready as soon as you're able, as the spots are filling up fast and I may be closing applications in the next few chapters. Stalkingdream has reserved the D6 female, but loco hasn't given me any word as to what District they're planning to send a tribute for, so you might get beaten to the punch again. D:

Enjoy the chapter!

_disclaimer: don't own the series. yep common knowledge. _

* * *

**District Two and Four Reapings: The Unquestioned Order**

_Alaska Silverstone, Cassio Montago, Celeste Mason, Kane Toews_

* * *

District Two was the only one that still paid attention during the reading of the Treaty. It made them proud, proud that they were the ones who stood stalwart by the Capitol during the Dark Days when the others strayed and erred. After the Mockingjay Plague, an uprising almost as chaotic and destructive as the first Dark Days, District Two's loyalty never wavered again; throughout the various smaller uprisings across the decades that followed, the District was an unshakable stronghold. Even with the decorations for Reaping day it was hard to prettify the battered metal reinforcements on buildings, or the stone behemoths themselves that lined the streets. The District's warrior mindset shone through, and as the mayor finished reading the Treaty of Treason each citizen applauded with pride in their heart. It was nothing less than an honor to die for Panem.

He did not understand, but he followed suit; it was the way he had been raised, the way the instructors emphasized over and over during his training. There was definitely no room in his mind for doubt, and the only qualm he had with the Reaping was that it was so _slow_.

He fidgeted in place, scowling at the Escort's formalities. Smithe Levian wasn't even nice to look at, a thin lanky man with a suit like wire mesh and corrugated patterns down his pantlegs. C'mon, no one cared how proud Smithe was to represent this District, the fun part was the names, the fun part was where he got to the Arena and started wrecking havoc the way he'd been taught.

Ladies first. He almost forgot; he had been about to volunteer. Still, some action was better than nothing, and he watched Smithe draw a name from the glass bowl on the left.

"Alaska Silverstone!"

The tension released like a whipcrack over the crowd, the female Careers in the eighteen-year-old stockade jerking back in shock as the name registered. Alaska Silverstone. They knew that name, recognized the wavy black locks that bobbed from the seventeen-year-old section towards the stage.

Ice Queen. Standoffish bitch. He didn't mind getting rid of her in this year's Games. The other Careers contemplated the option to let Silverstone face her death- but that moment of hesitation was a moment too long. Alaska Silverstone was onstage, her cold gaze forcing any volunteers back to their stockades. The message was clear; she would not entertain any competition or argument.

When the applause started up it smacked of confusion. It was not an unwelcome surprise, but no one had seen that coming- another thing that made the Games so exciting, he supposed. How everything could change in an instant. Smithe attempted to make some cursory conversation as he shook Silverstone's hand, though everyone knew it was futile- the Escort didn't know? Heh.

Finally someone felt bad enough for the Escort to relieve him of his ignorance; "she's mute!" –came the calls from the stockades, and Silverstone simply rolled her eyes as Smithe startled and hastily offered an apology.

Indeed, District Two's female tribute didn't-couldn't- say a word. It was about time they got on with things.

"And n-now, to see who would get the honor of accompanying this beautiful young lady to the Games!" Several of the other male Careers mimed retching, holding in laughter; Silverstone was pretty hot, he'd give her some credit, but wholly unsatisfying overall. Didn't even bother talking to anyone when she trained, if she trained at all. Three days out of five his class didn't even see her around, and it wasn't because she was one year above him. He hoped he would be there to watch her die. He didn't care enough to want to be the one dealing the final blow, but hey. The more kills under his belt the better, and he was already envisioning the Arena and the chaos and sweet, sweet action when Smithe's voice cut through his thoughts and he lost a second getting his bearings again, a second to remember what he had been trained his whole life to do.

"I volunteer!"

His pals gave him congratulatory cheers and claps on the back as he passed, striding confidently up to the stage. They had this planned so they could be Victors together- him this year, Ashlar the next, and finally Lewis at eighteen. The weedy fourteen-year-old that got called could thank him when he returned victorious.

"A volunteer!" Smithe looked more surprised than he had any right to be, as the applause started up again and he had to shout into his microphone to be heard. "Your name, my boy?"

"Cassio Montago."

"A macho name for a strong boy like yourself, eh? Make your District proud!" Again with a slap on the back, but this time it was from a Capitol man Cassio neither knew nor trusted, and he didn't react to it as he turned to accept Alaska's outstretched hand. Alaska may not spare him a drop of affection, but she had the attitude and skill he wanted by his side. He didn't _need_ affection. He'll get all the warmth he needed from the blood he'd stain his hands with.

The thought made Cassio smirk, a dangerous touch to the nondescript portrait of brown-hair-brown-eyes-sickly-pale-skin. Alaska wasn't the least interested in presenting herself for the cameras, or maybe that was the angle she's going for- ooh, he was sure he had her all figured out- but the District responded with riotous applause anyway. Their tributes didn't fail them often, and the both of them were sure that they wouldn't.

It was funny, with two pale tributes from a District full of tanned warriors. But white was all the rage in the Capitol this month, anyway. The cameras panned away as the Anthem sounded.

* * *

Her heart was in her throat as Flanders Bronze swished his hand through the bowl of names, hidden microphones broadcasting the rustling noises of paper all over Panem- accompaniment to the gentle rolling of the waves just beyond. Only in Panem did Four come before Three, the change in Reaping order being made official many years back after the Capitol complained of the dull Three Reaping interrupting the Career's highlights, and she sometimes wondered what District Three thought of being left out of the Career's Circle.

Today was not one of the times, however. The glittering sea and sparkling beaches gave the Reaping such an impression of false serenity, and the idea of having to beautify such a deathmatch made her sick. A long time ago, she had been just as ignorant as any other Career. But no more. She wasn't a Career now, balking at the idea of even identifying herself as such-

"Celeste Mason!"

-no.

"Celeste Mason?"

"Hey, Celeste?" All the other girls were looking at her curiously, the Careers from the older stockades straining to catch sight of her. The girl next to her nudged her forward gently and she stumbled, mouth hanging open in shock.

No. This wasn't happening, this couldn't be, not her, no no _no-_

"Mason? Hurry up, or are you chickening out?" Someone called from the eighteen-year-old stockade. They were getting restless, and what doomed her was the fact that this wasn't One or Two- the Careers knew her from before, and all they see was the sister of the brother who was made for success, who achieved an eleven in training and made six kills in the Arena and drowned. And why wouldn't the sister of Victor Mason want to finish what her brother started?

Because she wanted to live, that was why. Because she didn't care a bit about the Games and its falsified glory- but a seventeen-year old in front of Celeste made a tentative step towards the stage, and what she saw was not a volunteer but her brother, her brother sending himself to his death, and her body reeled at how _wrong_ this all was-

"_No!_" Suddenly she found the strength to lift her head up and keep walking, her body trembling, blinking back tears as she pulled the seventeen-year-old back. "What are you throwing your life away for? Your lives are too precious to waste on a Game like this! _All _of you!"

Dead silence, as the children of District Four stared at her in utter stupefaction.

"What a fiery girl!" Flanders cut in, his grin slipping like melting wax. "Do come up onstage, Celeste Mason! You must be bursting with pride to represent your District!"

It made no sense that the Escort would think that after all she said, but her mind blanked and Celeste dumbly complied. An eerie sense of calm detachment seemed to descend upon her as she climbed the steps to the stage, inarticulately transfixed with the electric-blue streaks in the Escort's hair. She didn't even hear the horrified wail of her young sister over the static buzzing in her ears as she shook Flanders' hand, sweat slicking her palm and dripping uncomfortably from her scalp into her black hair. The cool sea breeze seemed miles away, the air hanging humid and heavy as Flanders let go and addressed the crowd with something, she didn't know what, his powder-blue lips moving in ways alien to her disorientated brain.

When her District Partner began talking it seemed so sudden that Celeste almost fell off the stage. He towered over her. She turned and had to look up to face him, tasting blood in her mouth and realizing belatedly that she had been biting her lip the entire time, nodding once as she struggled to listen. He... wanted her to make sure she wouldn't get left behind. Because-

"...cus' I'm not going to be waiting around for you, lady or not! I guess it's normal if a girl like you can't catch up, if you're _really_ that tired in the Arena you can just shout and I'd be nice enough to wait for y-"

"Shut up. I can hold my own." She hissed, colder than she's ever remembered herself being, lashing out not only at this arrogant blonde boy but also the Capitol, the Games that's ruined so many- ice turned to fire in her belly and if they wanted a show, she'd give them one. "When _you're_ the one crying for your mother, I'm afraid I might not be so generous. It's expected, after all, for someone like you to get left behind."

A moment of tense silence, as the boy's face twisted with anger. "Why, you-"

-then laughter washed over them like a wave, the girls in their stockades cheering and clapping over the amusement of the rest of the District. They would have fighters this year. It was a good thing. The two tributes turned to the crowds, suddenly remembering themselves in front of such a large audience. The fight dissolved. Once again, it was almost festive.

"Celeste Mason and Kane Toews, everyone!"

Cameras rolled and crowds applauded, and the sea threw sunlight into their eyes, and as the shot zoomed out and to fade in to the next District's Reapings the two of them looked nothing more than just two dots in a sea of colors, playing pieces to be tossed about by the tumult of the Games.


	5. D3,D5 Reapings: Breathe in the Chemicals

**A/N: **Slots for** D7, D8 & D9 males and the D10 female** still open! **Stalking dream, locoforcoco **and **Booksbeforelooks**, do send in your applications soon because I'll be getting to write the rest of the Reapings soon I hope yeah.

Reivew reply Justawriter167: It was mentioned that Alaska was mute, although it was only a passing mention (because I forgot about it at first aaah I'm sorry!) I'll elaborate more on that part of her in later chapters, so don't worry!

Enjoy, everyone!

* * *

**District Three & District Five Reapings: Breathe in the chemicals**

_Zipporah Herriot, Tommie Asata, Keira Cadell, Atom Sinclair_

* * *

Once Four's Reapings cut away to Three the Capitolites put down their notes and lean back in their couches; now that the serious contenders are past everything becomes nothing more than pleasant amusement, walking down the aisle of canines at a dog show and seeing if anything piques their interest.

* * *

District Three was surreal to the Capitol- the cramped buildings, railings and panels of metal plating everything a dull silver, a city grit with dirt and rust. Shadows fell over the Reaping Square, distorted into something almost fearsome with the additions of chimneys and ladders and stunted buildings no one bothered to demolish. This was her reality- a cruel twist of fate, perhaps, that she was born into such a place of poverty instead of the glitzy Capitol, but she maintained the belief that everything that happens was meant to be.

The Escort, Tiffany Garnet, was oblivious to the failure of her attempts to dress up matching the District, the tangle of wires across her cocktail dress drooping to her ankles as she paraded across the stage. The mayor gave the attention to her readily, mumbling through the Treaty and moving stiffly to the back of the stage. It had been a bad year. The first year his children had to take out tesserae, apparently. A calamity that was fated, by some instruction of the stars, and she was sure it would have an impact on this Reaping. People would die.

But then again, they died every year.

She watched Tiffany swirl her hand about the names in the bowl, her own face the only calm one in a sea of panicked faces. There was a stifling silence as the Escort drew out a slip, shifted her weight with an audible _clack clack _of her heels, and finally parted her lips.

"Zipporah Herriot!"

There was a collective sigh from the girls around her, the others edging away as the Peacekeepers close in, as if afraid that even standing near her would give them bad luck. And yet, at the eye of the storm, Zipporah pushed the growing panic away with her veneer of calm, stepping out to meet the Peacekeepers with a faint smile on her lips.

It was terribly unfortunate, but who was she to fight fate?

"What a lovely tribute we have this year! You look confident, darling. Come on up, a little closer!" Tiffany was elated at her calm, her tall stature for a District Three child, the mild liquid honey of her eyes that expressed nothing but pleasantries. Zipporah scanned the crowd for her parents, her two parents working themselves to the bone to provide for her, and that was the only pang of regret she felt as she stood on that stage blinking in the camera flashes- her _parents_, what would they do-

"Thank you." She replied, her voice cracking slightly, trying for a brighter smile to disguise how much Tiffany's clipped voice hurt her ears.

"Any volunteers?"

Of course not. Zipporah concentrated on maintaining her smile through the silence that followed- of course, who would want to volunteer for her? Tiffany bit the inside of her cheek, hastily moving on from the awkward moment.

"Oh, uh, congratulations, young lady!"

Zipporah stepped aside obligingly as Tiffany moved to draw the name of her District Partner, her long fingers reaching up to arrange her bun of hair- _perhaps she should've paid her appearance more attention this year _was a thought that crossed her mind as she caught her plain face with its lack of expression across the screens. Then the cameras cut to Tiffany, the slip in her hand as she read it out, the image projected onto the large screens sealing the fate of-

"Tommie Asata!"

The immediate reaction was a surprised yelp from the fifteen-year-old stockade- "-me?! " –and that's all the giveaway the Peacekeepers needed, turning to the boys' stockade to haul out the tribute. A short scuffle followed- "Okay, okay, I'm coming! Don't drag me! I can walk on my own!" Everyone turns to watch the little blur barrel out of the crowd, sprinting in a wobbly path up to the stage to leave the Peacekeepers far behind. He was nothing like her, small and bright-eyed with dirty blonde hair that stood out against the dark and dirty of most of the District. A merchant's child, likely, and to confirm Zipporah's hypothesis the boy glanced nervously to where the richer fraction of District Three were gathered.

A lucky child, to have been born to a rich family. Unfortunate that his luck ran out.

"Um, hello!" Tommie chirped in response to Tiffany's greeting, his sea-colored eyes darting about, fingers fidgeting with the starched fabric of his shirt. "Y-yes, I'm Tommie."

"Your two tributes, District Three! Shake hands, the two of you."

The two of them locked gazes, and Tommie's barely-concealed panic is infectious- for a moment, Zipporah remembered again that she was going to die.

_Calm. Panem is watching. _The dark-haired girl smiled, trying to convey silent reassurance, her hand squeezing her District Partner's tight as the District mustered up cursory applause as the anthem played as the Capitol waited to swallow them whole.

Unfortunate. Fate is cruel.

* * *

Damn. He had no idea why they picked him- _him, _out of all people- and before he had the time to wonder which god he pissed off they were hustling him up the stage, towards the Escort who had teeth like a shark and hair that reminded him of the smog of his District.

Which deep sea-trench did that Capitol guy crawl out of?

Oh, shit, wrong occasion for such thoughts. District Five was at the very least grateful that Atom Sinclair had enough wits about him to grin and wave, and it was that much easier for everyone to pretend that this was a happy occasion. Now that he was here, at the very least he ought to attempt being positive, and at the very best he could even win this. Who knew?

Keira Cadell, that was his District Partner's name. At least he remembered! For the longest time he didn't even have a name to pin on the Escort. He made a mental note to ask later. But wait, back to the situation at hand- his District partner was a real sourpuss, sadly. And too young for his tastes, though Atom was sure either way she wouldn't appreciate any sort of advance from him; he'd seen her slinking around, the little brown-haired minx, scaring children and stealing food or whatever. Slouching in her little corner of angst near the back of the stage, glaring out at everyone.

No one had expected her to volunteer, actually. Atom had hoped someone nice soul would do the same for him- too bad he hadn't the luck, and the call for volunteers were met with silence.

"Heh, at least I'll be getting out of this oversized powerplant and to where the good stuff is, eh?"

At least the Escort responded with good humor. Keira sighed, rolled her eyes, but otherwise said nothing. Was she happy for what she had done? What was going through that little minx's head?

"Hey, what're you thinking?"

"That's none of your business."

"Man, I was just tryin' to be friendly..."

"Watch your step."

Oh, right, shit. Atom caught himself in time, but the Escort didn't- his leather shoes sinking through the rotten wood of the third step, the Capitolite pitching forward with a strangled cry and nearly hitting the ground had their mentor not caught the man.

Neither of them could help it- they both laughed, hers sounding remarkably light-hearted for a suspicious little witch no one wanted to go near. If she could laugh, she wasn't that bad after all. The tributes going into the Games, they all had some whack story behind them, right? Father died and mother went into prostitution or whatever, he had heard all sorts throughout his years of watching the Games, and he imagined Keira to be the one among the two of them to be reeling in the sponsors with her mystique and the fact that she was an orphan.

"What the hell're you talking about? I'm not an orphan, dumbass."

"Oh, uh, did I say that out loud? Ah, dang. Sorry, you're not? I don't see your parents around, so I thought..."

"How would you know if you've seen my parents before? We've never met!"

"You're right, so how about formal introductions again? Hey, I'm Atom Sinclaire, nice to meet you!"

"...we're here. Shut up." It was the last thing she said before the Peacekeepers split them up, steering them to different rooms in the Justice Building. Only now did Atom look up and realize what a grand place he was in, and _yikes, since when did District Five have the money for all these furnishings? _

"Alright, wait in here. Your visitors will come in soon- hey! Who're you and how did you get here?!"

"I-I- I wanted to v-visit the f-female tribute?"

"Not this room, kid, I'll take you there."

Atom watched the twelve-year-old that Keira had volunteered for be lead away, the kid's eyes still sparkling with the tears she had shed when she heard her name called. She wouldn't stop crying, not even when Keira had leapt onstage and declared herself a volunteer, thank the heavens the kid finally stopped sniffling- he couldn't stand people getting all mushy and teary-

-well, it would be an interesting Games, at least. Surely the Capitol must be talking all about District Five and its volunteer, and its volunteer's strikingly dashing District Partner!

Yeah. Concentrate on the good things, and everything would be fine...


	6. D6, D7,D8 Reapings: Melody of Heartbreak

**A/N: **So sorry for the delay! I've been busy this past week and also sick D:

Anyway, all apps are locked up til D8! I'll edit the form on Chapter Two when I have the time after I wake up tomorrow. Sigh. So sorry, once again!

Last call for OC applications!

* * *

**District Six, District Seven District Eight Reapings: Melody of Heartbreak**

_Kia Rossi, Den Nustard, Aiden Vyner, Scout Green, Isabella Dennis _

* * *

"Den Nustard!"

She watched the other blonde ascend the stage nervously. Well. He didn't look particularly interesting. That was good, then. One less person to worry about- her chances for the Games were looking better and better by the minute, as her attention wandered from the Reaping and towards calculations for the days ahead.

"Shake hands, tributes!"

Kia Rossi turned to her new District Partner, fluttering her eyelashes and making the first move- "I... look forward to our partnership, Den." – smirking internally as the boy fell for it and nodded. Friendly boy. She could imagine one of the Careers taking care of him for her, could imagine them passing her over as some sheltered girl of Six's upper crust. Which wasn't particularly great to begin with; even she was not spared from the smudges of dirt at the corners of her face or the smoke particles trapped in her locks from the never-ending smoke clouding the air. District Six was nothing but a procession line. This was her chance to step off this dirt-poor path and head for where she truly belonged, amongst the riches and finery Kia was sure she deserved.

They steered her down the stage to the beat of Panem's anthem. The Escort tried to comfort her trembling District Partner by saying how he could say goodbye to his family properly later, and she had to resist laughing- Kia knew that no one would be coming to visit _her_, and after some thought she decided that she didn't quite mind. She already knew the whole District would be behind her, and certainly the Capitol would be in love with the sweet strawberry-blonde of her hair and the cherry-pink curve of her lips that were so unlike the usual frumpy freckled look of District Six.

As the crowd began to scatter and the Reaping footage cuts away, Kia turned her attentions to the Justice Building, the gritty foreboding of its exterior melting into luxury inside. Linoleum flooring that reflected her image as she walked, the walls made of sleek black something much like the plating on hovercraft parts she had seen, light fixtures more brilliant than most Six children would ever get to see in their lifetime. In that instant, instead of fear or apprehension, Kia only felt flashes of joy- she was now different from the rest of them, more talented and entitled and clearly of a different band in life.

It was a good thing she had been Reaped, then. Kia was nothing if not an opportunist, and now it wouldn't be wasted on some terrified Six girl who would die straightaway.

"Excuse me, Ms. Escort, is it alright if you bring me to the train station first? I don't think anyone's going to come visit."

"Oh, you poor dear, I'm sure someone will come say goodbye! We've always waited the full hour. You could have a look around if you're bored?"

She forced more innocence into her smile, sensing her Escort's weakness. It was second nature to her now, prying and ripping at the seams until her targets came apart- "No, it's alright. Please? I'd like to see the trains. Being a tribute brings so many new experiences, I want to make the most out of them!"

Crystelle, her coiffed hair violently red under the artificial light, fell for the bait immediately. Escorts of the middle Districts could never resist the lure of an eager tribute, rare as they were- Den could stay with his family for all Kia cared. The attention would be solely on her, and the edge would be all the more with her. This was a Game for the Capitol, and naturally the Capitol would be the chess pieces that she needed to take control of to win it, yes?

"Oh! Thank you so much, Ms. Escort!"

* * *

The gloomily industrialized Six faded into the lush greenery of Seven, where the cameras failed to capture the stifling heat and buzz of insects around the Reaping Stage. Seven's Reaping was in the afternoon to capture the beautiful effect of sunlight through the canopy, and if the Escort was bothered by the ants crawling over her polished sapphire heels she didn't show it. After all, this wasn't her show, this was _his_, his show even though he didn't want it in the least; only the stupid or the cruel would cast someone like him in a show that rips its actors apart, a poor boy blinking back tears. He'd be lucky to last the opening credits, the Careers hunting him down, the mutts prowling the Arena...

_no no no this was not happening no help why this why him someone help-_

Stop. Aiden, _stop_. _Breathe, f-focus..._

His District Partner was doing a much better job than him, when it came to that. Eyes burning, amber irises like liquid gold on fire, staring down the world from the stage. Scout Green, a plain-enough name, fifteen, young enough (yet older than him) to be passed over as Seven tributes always were, and yet- her first reaction was anger, righteous fury no matter how futile the situation, and Aiden wondered if she would steal all the spotlight and he'd be permitted to edge behind her where he couldn't be seen.

"Scout Green, yes? What a lovely name!"

"Does it matter? It's not as if you're going to remember me after this anyway."

"Um. Well, let's move on. You must be proud of your brave young tributes, Seven!" Corona Finch spread her arms wide in a gesture of joy, flashing her perfect manicure to the District, spreading the lie that either of them were _brave _in the least. While they were both olive-skinned Scout had the kind of light tan that looked healthy and strong, while he only looked sicker and sicker with each passing moment- but as Scout turned to Aiden to shake hands he saw the same fear in her eyes, the same terrified understanding that no amount of lashing out could solve.

"Damn...damn these _Games_."

No one heard it over the anthem.

They were shown offstage. Aiden held his breath for a few minutes more, sternly forbidding the tears to flow in front of the cameras that he knew from experience would linger. The Capitol loved the greenery of Seven enough to have many of its Games fashioned after its forested wilderness, enough for them to watch Seven's two tributes a bit more to see if anything interesting would come up this year. And even then, when the next District's Reapings came on...

He could feel it, and he could sense Scout tensing with all eyes of District Seven on their backs. With the Justice Building looming up over them through the trees, the whole District watching their departure... it occurred to Aiden that he had family, family which would be pushing their way to the front of the crowd wanting to see him for the last time...

Yes, he had dreamed about being the center of attention, wondered what it was like to be outspoken, and popular, and noticed...

...but not like _this_...

* * *

"The female tribute for the 302rd Games is..."

Would he hurry hurry hurry up already? No one wanted to wait, no one really cared about the atmosphere or the drama or the things that the Escort always seemed to love so much. Just like the rest of the Capitol. Drama drama death and fear and so much emotion played out on the screens, always moving, always action if the Gamemakers could help it, didn't they know that there was a time and a place for everything? Her parents had told her that too many times.

She wanted to run, she wanted to skip and hop and twirl and play some pranks, not stand fidgeting here in the fourteen-year-old's stockade ignoring the glares of the other girls, waiting for the restraints to be over-

"Isabella Dennis!"

-!

"A-aahh!" She jumped in place, dark eyes shooting up to the stage in surprise. Her? H-her, really? Surely it must be a mistake, it couldn't have been her, the chances were so small, and yet the other girls were already clearing a path for her and pushing her forward-

One step, another step, and her body was enjoying the sensation of movement again; running up to the stage against her will. She shouldn't have taken out that tesserae. Oh no. She should've known it was a bad idea. Maybe she should've taken her parents' advice and worn an actual dress instead of jeans and shirts like she normally did. Oh no. Would anyone mind that she looked frumpy and messy, with her black hair all scraggly, the hand-me-downs oversided over her small frame?

Well, at least she was being honest with her image. Isabella brushed it off, moved on. Her fingers worked itself into the folds of her shirt compulsively as she reached the stage, fidgeting again; she ignored the less-than-happy looks of the Capitolite before her. Ignored his hand before-

"Oh, wait. Sorry." Right. She was supposed to shake it. Forgot.

Well, all the other tributes before her were nothing great to look at either. She didn't understand why this Julius Finnerin guy still had such ridiculous expectations. A Capitolite just like the rest of them, eh, expecting and expecting and not realizing how the situation was for the rest of them!

Oh, she'd enjoy pranking her Escort! Oh, it would be fun.

Anything to distract herself from the reality of standing on the stage, trying not to meet the eyes of her District, once again having to wait. Wait for the boy sent to his death with her.

"And the male tribute is..."


End file.
